A huge delegation met Harder on the dock when she arrived: Admiral Christy, the submarine force commander in that area, himself coming to Darwin to do honor to this ship, and embark for the trip back to Fremantle. The ship was met in Australia by another delegation, including General Douglas MacArthur, who awarded Captain Dealey the Army Distinguished Service Cross on the spot.
The officers and crew were also subsequently recognized by suitable decorations, and when the news arrived in the United States, accompanied by the unanimous recommendations of all responsible officers, President Roosevelt awarded the Congressional Medal of Honor to Sam Dealey and the Presidential Unit Citation to Harder herself. Frank Lynch was promoted to command of his own boat, and Sam Logan moved up to the post of executive officer.
But although Harder and her skipper survived the deeds for which this recognition was accorded, the awards themselves were made posthumously. Sam Dealey’s widow received the Medal of Honor in his name, and the United States Submarine Force reverently accepted the Presidential Unit Citation in trust for the day when another ship shall be built bearing the name Harder.
For neither survived the next patrol.
Usually when a submarine fails to return from patrol, there are surmises, rumors, wild theories, sometimes a Japanese claim of a sinking, but rarely anything concrete to explain what happened. Sometimes survivors returned from the unspeakable brutalities of Jap prison camps after the war to tell what caused the losses of their ships, but these cases were very few in number. Harder was an exception, for she operated in a wolfpack during her sixth and last patrol, and another vessel actually witnessed and reported the circumstances of her loss.
On the morning of August 24, 1944, Harder dived off the west coast of Luzon, in company with USS Hake. Being the senior skipper, Dealey had decided to make a reconnaissance in this area in hopes that it might yield results comparable to those he had achieved only three days before when, as commander of a five-boat pack, he had engaged two convoys in a fierce, close-range battle, sinking in all ten ships, and driving the rest into harbor where they huddled for protection from the subs ranging back and forth before the entrance.
Shortly after daybreak on the fateful August 24, echo ranging was heard, and two escort-type vessels of about one thousand tons each were sighted. Both submarines immediately commenced approaching for an attack. However, the larger of the two ships suddenly zigged away and entered Dasel Bay. The other stayed outside, and at this time Hake broke off the attack, feeling the remaining target was hardly worth the torpedoes it would take to sink him. Harder, however, held on, and Hake sighted her periscope crossing in front, passing between Hake and the enemy vessel. Hake by this time had commenced evasive maneuvers, for the Jap was echo ranging loudly and steadily in her direction. Exactly what was in Sam Dealey’s mind is, of course, not known; his previous record indicated that he would have had no hesitancy in tangling with this chap if he thought it worth while. Furthermore, he had more or less got Hake into this spot, and may have felt that he owed it to the other submarine to get her out again. But, whatever his motives, he maneuvered Harder between the other two vessels with the result that the Jap, naturally enough, took off after him instead of after Hake. According to the latter’s report, the enemy vessel showed some confusion, probably because of the two targets where he had suspected no more than one.
Sam Dealey was perfectly capable of an act of self-abnegation such as his maneuver appears to have been. It must be pointed out, however, that the enemy vessel was a small anti-submarine type, and that Dealey had several times previously come off victorious in encounters with much more formidable ships. Of the two submarines, Harder was doubtless the better trained and equipped to come to grips with this particular enemy. It was simply the fortunes of war that, in this case, Fate dealt two pat hands — and Sam’s wasn’t good enough.
With Hake a fascinated spectator, the Jap made his run. Possibly Harder fired at him, though Hake heard no torpedo on her sound gear. The enemy came on over Sam Dealey, and suddenly dropped fifteen depth charges. Harder’s periscope was never seen after that, nor were her screws heard again.
According to the Japanese report of the incident, the periscope of a submarine was sighted at about two thousand yards, and a depth charge attack was immediately delivered. After this single attack, a huge fountain of oil bubbled to the surface, and considerable quantities of bits of wood, cork, and other debris came up and floated in the slick.
So perished a gallant ship, a gallant captain, and a gallant crew. All of Sam Dealey’s skill and daring could avail him not one iota against the monstrous fact that the enemy’s first depth charge attack, by some unhappy stroke of fate, was a bull’s-eye.
9
Trigger
Trigger made her name with a rush. She began her career as a night fighter, and it was on the surface at night, retaining the initiative with speed and mobility, that her rapier-like thrusts wrought the greatest damage upon the enemy. In her ensuing four patrols she sank a total of nineteen ships and damaged four. Six times, single-handed, she engaged enemy convoys far outmatching her in escort vessels. By this time I was the only officer left of the original commissioning gang, and Trigger and I understood each other pretty well, although frequently she surprised me.
We didn’t have long to wait before Dusty Dornin took Trigger into action. On September 8, 1943, we left Pearl Harbor bound for Formosa, and maintained full speed all the way, not even submerging when passing Wake Island. Dusty’s philosophy was to carry the battle to the enemy at all times; make him show how good he was before we pulled the plug. And on September 23, having just arrived in our area, we sighted a fat target.
We are submerged off Formosa, patrolling what our calculations indicate should be a Jap shipping lane. For two days we have been here, and nary a sign of ships have we seen. Maybe we’ve guessed wrong. But not this time, for at about 1600 of the second day smoke is sighted. A convoy, running for Japan.
Battle stations submerged! We start the approach. This time, however, we are not lucky, for we are so far off the base course of the ships that we are forced to watch helplessly while they steam by well out of range. But we take a good look; six ships in two columns; in the near column three big fat tankers, the leader a new modern 10,000 tonner; in the far column three average-size freighters. What a plum! Never mind the plane we see buzzing above the convoy. These birds are our meat! We secure from battle stations, but follow at maximum sustained submerged speed, keeping our quarry in sight as long as possible, waiting for dark.